Something Sweet To Believe In
by Iamaguitarpick
Summary: Life is good for 16 year old Anastasia Zima. Good and normal. That is until Jack Frost decides to open her eyes to a little fun. But because of that one game, Anastasia is caught up in the affairs of legends. At first it seems easy to walk away, but when Ana realises that she can help save the Guardians' from Pitch Black, she just can't say no.
1. Chapter One

Something Sweet to Believe in – Rise of the Guardians Fan Fiction

My name is Anastasia Zima, and I have a Russian heritage. On both parents side. I live with my mum, my dad and my 2 sisters in this massive house in the richest part of town. Our house is the biggest of them all, and by far the oldest. My dad's a businessman, my mum's an actress, one of my sister's a debutant and the other's married to the owner of some company somewhere. Me? I'm the black sheep of our family. I'm the one in the family photos who stands at the side and looks moody. I'm not actually moody, I'm pretty cheery around my friends, of whom I have no shortage of. And I'm not the sort of kid that does badly in school just to spite my parents. I come top in every class and I don't think I've ever had a detention. But despite this I'm not bullied and as far as I know no-one talks about me behind my back. All in all, I live an alright life. It'd be great if my parents weren't so ashamed or my normality and my obstinate belief in legends. Yes, I admit it, I still keep my childish faith in the Easter Bunny, and Santa Clause, and the Tooth Fairy. And even in the less known legends, like the Sand Man, the Bogey Man and Jack Frost. Of course, I don't tell my friends this. People can only be so accepting.

I said about my parents being just a little bit ashamed of me. Because of my normality? Ringing any bells? I'll continue anyway. I'm not actually normal. I'm crazy talented at art, and I'm not just saying that. I'm not one of those annoying as hell people to whom art comes totally naturally. I worked damn hard to get as good as I am so let me boast! You'd think that because of my one talent my parents would be proud, boast about me so I don't have to. No, quite the opposite. When I start saying how I love drawing, they can't shut me up quick enough. They want me to be good at music, or acting, or finance, or business. You know, stuff that can make you rich. They can't stand the fact that I'm not good at anything like that. Mum hates it most because I get paint all over my clothes. Seriously, I haven't a single item of clothing without at least 6 different paint marks. My favourite outfit – low hanging dark jeans, tight black tank top and converse – have the most smears and splatters and intentional marks of all. That's all I've got to say, just a little about myself. Not much, just enough to let you know what I'm like. Or at least a little about what I'm like. So anyway, I'm writing all this because I was told to by mum. She says to write everything that happens to me down, just in case I wake up smell the plastic roses and rise to a life of fame. Not likely, but whatever puts her mind at ease.

Another thing about me (as if you don't know enough already) I am a very deep sleeper. So it's only natural that 9 times out of 10 I miss my alarm when it goes off. So naturally, 9 times out of 10, I'm late for school. This would be one of those 9 times. I grab my pre-packed messenger bag, down 2 cups of black coffee and sprint out the door. And slip on a patch of black ice. I land on my bum with a yelp but instead of just getting a bruised backside and some odd looks, I'm sent hurtling forwards by a massive gust of wind. I scream, clutching my bag and squeezing my eyes tightly shut. That is until I hear a loud, joyous laugh right by my ear. I peek out of one eye to see a boy, about a year older than me, flying beside me. No metaphor there, people, the guy is literally flying. He white (not ash blond, _white_) hair is ruffled by the wind and his bright, sparkling blue eyes stand out in stark contrast against his white skin. His eyes are alight with glee as the ice swerves me this way and that, him following with ease. It's kind of fun, until I see the truck barrelling towards me. The boy sees it too and is about to fly out of the way and leave me there when I grab onto his arm and get pulled along with him.


	2. Chapter Two

They boy and I rise into the air quickly. He's strong and fast but I still wonder how he doesn't notice a 16 year old girl hanging off his arm, and I'm no lightweight either. But no, it's not until we're about 20 stories up and the pedestrians below us are screaming their heads off and probably taking photos' that he realises that his ascent was somewhat hindered by this random girl hanging off his arm. _Men_!  
"What the- you-you can see me?"  
"Of course I can see you! I'm hanging off your goddamn arm!" I yell.  
"Oh my god!"  
"is she flying?"  
No, I'm swimming.  
"Hey, isn't that Ana?" crap. I'm so wrapped up in the consequences of someone from school seeing me that I hardly notice a cold hand wrap around my wrist until I'm yanked upwards. I scream sharply which makes the boy chuckle.  
"Come on, isn't this fun?" he asks me, eyes shining.  
"n-" I'm about to yell when the boy goes into a vertical dive to avoid a flock of birds. Only he doesn't pull up. Instead, he lets us both rocket towards the ground at a phenomenal speed. I swear, we're less than 6 foot from the pavement when he finally pulls up. Pedestrians scream and hop out of our way, some even yelling insults before realising I'm not just some kid on a bike.  
"This isn't funny!" I scream as he swerves into a shopping mall. He spirals around an escalator, me screaming all the while, and into a window.

The flexi glass buckles and shatters around us as I stop screaming and bury my head in his shoulder. We dip for a moment then we're gathering altitude. I peek around me and gasp. We're flying above a blanket of fluffy white clouds.  
"Oh my…" I sigh. The sun's glinting off the clouds, making them shine golden.  
"Is this better?" he asks gently. I nod and nestle my head in the crook between his neck and shoulder, just below his chin. It's not intimate, I don't even know his name, it's just comforting. A skyscraper pokes through the clouds and he settles against the aerial after placing me down.  
"So… what was that?" I ask him quietly.  
"Flying," he raises an eyebrow at me.  
"I got that, but _how_? Humans can't fly," I say.  
"Good thing I'm not human then," he laughs. The offhand comment shocks me into silence. So I poke his cheek a couple of times.  
"What are you doing?" he asks when I've stopped prodding him.  
"You look human, you," I pause, pinching his cheeks and giving a gentle tug making him cry out ("Ow!"), "feel human. In my books that's pretty human," I frown. Artists are known for having wider imaginations, but everyone has a limit, and for me it's aliens. The boy pauses for a moment, the grabs my hand.  
"Come on, I'll show you what I mean," and with that he's gathered me in his arms bridal style stepped off the edge of the skyscraper. He doesn't go below the cloud cover until we're over an empty park, having decided to spare the citizens of New York from heart attacks.

We land gently in a snow blanketed park and the boy finally puts me down.  
"Hey," I say slowly.  
"Yeah?"  
"What's your name?" I ask him. He smiles at me and says: "Guess,".  
"How can I guess? It could be anything! Give me a clue," I pout.  
"Okay…" he says slowly. Suddenly he whirls around and slams a long staff (did he have that before?) onto the ground. Ice spreads in a gorgeous flower from the tip, skimming over the dips in the snow. And I know.  
"Jack frost," I breathe.

* * *

This one's a little short, I'm putting them all up a page at a time so I'll try update daily.

Improvements and criticisms are very welcome, any suggestions of stuff I can add in to make it better would really be appreciated too.

:)


	3. Chapter Three

Jack smiles at me and I know I'm right.  
"No way," I say. Then I'm beaming and laughing.  
"No freaking way!" I throw my head back and laugh until my eyes tear up.  
"I knew it!" I yell to the heavens.  
"Knew what?" Jack's watching me intently.  
"I knew that you were real," I'm smiling so wide I feel like my face is going to split in two. Jack looks shocked for a moment. Then he's smiling and suddenly I'm up in the air again, being spun around and around. I squeal in delight as Jack dances around, twirling me around and around, chanting: "she can see me! She can see me!" in a sing song voice. Finally he collapses in a heap of snow, sending tiny flakes flying up around him. I flop down next to him.  
"I still haven't forgiven you for the whole flying me around Manhattan thing," he closes his eyes and smiles.  
"But that was fun, right?" he asks, and looking back I guess had I expected it, it would have been exhilarating and amazing and maybe even a little magical. So I nod at him.  
"Yeah, it was," I say, realising he can't see my nod because his eyes are closed (face palm). The smile's back and I grin down at him.

We sit there in comfortable silence when:  
_don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time, I'm having a ball. Don't stop-  
_I click answer on my phone and hold the device a few inches from my ear fearing for my hearing after seeing the caller ID.  
"Anastasia where are you? The school's just called me telling me you never showed up for classes! And then I hear from Becky that you were flying over the city?" so _that's_ who saw me flying. Becky you brat, you are so dead when I get home.  
"Sorry, mother," I say. Why is it that when I do something bad, I get an earful but whenever I do something good (99% of the time) I get nothing? Not a single word of praise.  
"I want you home right now," she yells.  
"Here's the thing… I don't know where I am," I say, bracing for screams.  
"What do you mean you don't know where you are?!"  
"you wouldn't believe me if I told you," I mumble. I hang up and stand up. Jack opens his eyes and watches me as I scribble my address down on a small slip of paper.  
"Here, if you get lonely come visit me," I hand it to him. He nods and I turn and walk away.

I emerge from the park onto Church St. which isn't far from my house. So I start to walk, huddled against the cold. It's not dark yet, and I couldn't have missed more than an hour of school but I don't plan on going. I just walk home in silence, bag bouncing uncomfortably against my hip. I unlock our heavy front door and slip inside. I know what I'm going to do for the next few hours. I get about 10 sheets of cartridge paper out of a drawer, settle myself down in my mess of a room surrounded by art stuffs and begin to draw.

"Anastasia! I know you're up there!" my mother screeches. I turn my music up louder and add the finishing touches to drawing. I don't paint this one, instead using pastel and so have smudges of colour on my face and knees and top.  
"Anastasia!" she near enough screams and I hastily drag myself off the floor and sprint downstairs. My mother hardly ever shouts, let alone screams.  
"Where were you? Why didn't you go to school?"  
"I don't know, and I couldn't be bothered," I say coldly.  
"What did you say?"  
"I said I couldn't be bothered to go to school! Why the hell should I, anyway, it's not like you actually care or anything," I glower at her. So I'm more than a little bitter about her lack of caring.  
"Of course I care!"  
"Do you? If you care so much then why didn't you congratulate me on getting my GCSE's? On getting my Art A Level 2 years early? Where were you when I won an art competition? What were you doing when I tried to tell you a university was considering admitting me early? Where the hell were you, mum?" I shout. Years of disappointment and rage and inferiority rise to the surface, threatening to boil over.  
"I don't have to answer to you!" she yells back.  
"You don't have to! Just acknowledge that I'm good enough to be looked at with pride rather than shame!" I scream. She stands there in shocked silence.  
"I'm not ashamed of you, I am so proud," she says quietly.  
"Yeah? Well you have a funny way of showing it," I say, my voice heavy with tears. I run upstairs before she can say another word.

* * *

Like before, any improvements or stuff I can add in would really be appreciated.

:)


	4. Chapter Four

I run into my room and slam the door behind me. Only then do I let the tears fall. Why can't she just be proud of me? What did I ever do to cause her to look at me like I'm not good enough. I slide down the door and collapse in a heap, head buried between my knees as my body's racked with sobs.  
"Anastasia?" a soft voice asks from in front of me. I start, staring up at Jack. I sniff and rub the tears from my eyes, laughing hollowly.  
"Sorry, I must look a state," he looks honestly worried, bless his little cotton socks (even though he doesn't wear socks).  
"What's wrong?"  
"Mum," I say bitterly as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. With girls my age, what else is the matter? He settles down next to me.  
"I may as well be invisible to her. She only notices me when I screw up. Did you know I completed my A Levels when most kids were still doing their GCSE's?" I look at him, "and do you know what she said when I told her? She told me off for going to a friend's party without permission. No, 'well done, Ana', not even a 'congrats'. Do you know how that hurts?" my voice goes high and I stare at my knees. Poor Jack looks like he doesn't know what to do, so I give him a hand my resting my head against his shoulder. Right now, all I need to make everything better is a hug and some kind words. Jack reaches over and pulls a sheet of paper gently from the floor. It's the one with my drawing on it.  
"You drew this?" he asks me. I nod. He holds the picture of him against his face and asks if it looks like him. I laugh and say yeah, a little.  
"It's amazing, Ana," he says gently. He may be the only guy in the whole world that knows how to comfort a girl, and no-one can see him. I laugh humourlessly at the irony.

After a while Jack gets to his feet and pulls me up off the floor.  
"Come on, I want to show you something," he says quietly. And you know what? I go with him. You may all be thinking "what the hell? How has she not learned not to go with this boy?" well I say I have the right to make a stupid mistake every once in a while. He steps onto the roof and helps me down then wraps his arm around my waist and lifts us both into the air. We fly high for a while, settling below the cloud cover on a skyscraper. He guides me to the ledge and we both sit, our feet dangling over the city. It feels like I'm on top of the world. Jack touches my shoulder and indicates the skyline. I gasp. Waves of multi-coloured lights spread across the horizon, colouring the city in bright blues and greens and purples. I'm completely enraptured. Now I see how Jack can live such a lonely existence, the views make it all better. New York at night from the sky might just be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I'm way above all the senseless violence and crime and pain the goes on in the streets, all I can see is light and shadow, there are no grey areas, no corruption.  
"Oh wow," I breathe. I can't say how long we sit there on the roof, watching the lights twist across the sky, all I know is at some point I started to doze off and Jack decided it would be better to walk home to keep me awake. We're just walking through an industrial area when the extraordinary happens.

"Hello mate, been a long time," a large… thing (blue kangaroo?) emerges from the shadow, "blizzard of '68 I believe," he stops a short way from us, "Easter Sunday, wasn't it?" he talks in an Australian accent. Definitely a kangaroo.  
"You're not still mad about that, are you?" Jack asks, leaning against his staff. I watch the pair in confusion.  
"Jack, why do you know a blue kangaroo?" I ask confusedly. The kangaroo and Jack stare at me until Jack doubles over in laughter.  
"y-you can see us?" the kangaroo nearly yells. Obviously he's supposed to be an invisible blue kangaroo. Did someone spike my coffee?  
"Shouldn't I? I can pretend I don't if that makes you feel any better," Jack's laughing so hard tears are streaming down his cheeks and freezing there. The blue-and-not-invisible-kangaroo stares at me in shock. I'd be staring too, were I not me. But I am me, so I just stare back at him. Then he nods suddenly and Jack and I are lifted up and shoved into a sack too small for two people. So naturally, being two rather leggy people, we get very tangled up.  
"Ow! Don't lean your elbow there!" I yelp.  
"Where else can I lean it? What am I leaning it on?" he asks.  
"You don't want to know," I say, smiling. He can't get off fast enough (he was leaning on my stomach, not whatever he thought it was). Suddenly the sack's lifted from the ground and thrown, yes thrown, into god knows what. All I know is that suddenly there's no gravity. Of course, we don't go floating, there's not enough room. I'm thinking we won't land when thump! We hit the floor in a mess of limbs and torsos.

* * *

Again, comment on stuff I should change/add/fix. Thanks

:)


	5. Chapter Five

"Ow…" I moan. I'm pretty sure I'll have more than a few bruises. Suddenly the string is pulled from the top of the sack and two tiny – and ugly – faces peek in. Jack ignores them, crawling half way out of the sack.  
"Hey, there he is! Jack Frost!" a man with a heavy Russian accent says cheerily. The background of chatter – which I didn't notice before - stopped as whoever it was started listening.  
"Wow… you gotta be kidding me," Jack says bluntly.  
"What?" I whisper before Jack's lifted from the sack.  
"Jack!" I hiss.  
"Whoa! Hey, put me down," Jack tells the giant teddies that picked him up. Everyone notices the still present bulge in the fabric.  
"Who's in there?" the Russian asks Jack. Jack kneels down next to the sack. _My_ sack.  
"It's okay, Ana, they're not gonna bite," he says gently.  
"I'm going to hold you to that," I grumble, slipping shyly from the red sack. I'm getting stared at. By a fat man, a bird, a sandcastle and a kangaroo. Holy mother of fudge, what the heck is going on? My jaw literally hits the floor.  
"She can see us," the fat man says, dumbstruck.  
"What is it with people and saying that? Of course I can see you!" I sigh in exasperation. Someone, please, explain to me what's going on because I honestly haven't a clue.  
"Normally, kids your age can't see them," Jack explains.  
"Them. Right, what about you?" I ask him, frowning.  
"Me? You're the first person to ever see me,"

"Well don't I feel special. Seriously, that is not an explanation!" I cry, "I want to know _why_ people can't see you, or stop seeing you or whatever!"  
"allow me to explain," the Russian man says, a smile colouring his tone, "we are not human, we are merely… legends, myths, bed time stories. Only we have a… physical form, but only to those who believe in us," then it clicks. The Russian is Santa, what I thought was a kangaroo is the Easter Bunny (albeit an odd one) so the sandcastle must be the… Sandman. And that just leaves the Tooth Fairy whom I thought was just a weird bird.  
"Oh god," I say, feeling suddenly faint, "I don't believe this,"  
"well you have to, how else would you be able to see us?" the kangaroo (that label's gonna stay) says, visibly annoyed at something. What did I do?  
"Well, yeah I always hoped you were real but I never thought… I mean, it never occurred to me that-that there was any possibility that you could exist, it all just seemed like a fantasy, something sweet to believe in," my voice goes high pitched, like it always does when I get scared. It makes people think I'm lying for some reason. The 4 legends look at me pityingly, whereas Jack just beams.  
"What?" I ask him.  
"It took you a while to recognise them, but you recognised me as soon as I showed you what I could do," he's like a sweet, sincere little kid.  
"It's the simple things, isn't it?" I grin, ruffling his white hair. Instantly I feel like a big sister again, only this time they're older than me, taller than me and probably more mature than me.

"Why am I here, anyway?" Jack laughs after pulling away from my ruffling. This brings all attention away from me, and though I have a slight attention craving I don't want it constantly and so a sigh of relief escapes me lips.  
"Ah yes, why you are here," Santa says, "you are here because now… you are Guardian!" he cries, lifting his arms out wide. What the hell's a Guardian? Music starts to play and tiny kingfishers fly a large book into the Russians big hands. It's a cacophony of smiles and sounds and disgusted looks until BAM, Jack slams his stick onto the ground. The tiny ugly things go sliding on the ice that stems from the staff. Everything goes silent.  
"What makes you think I want to be a Guardian?" Jack asks coldly. An idiot could tell just how angry this boy is, but Santa totally disregards his rage as shyness.  
"Of course you do," he says patronisingly, "Music!" and the trumpets start up once more.  
"No, no music!" Jack yells and an ugly thing throws down its instrument and pushes its friend away. Angry little buggers.  
"Look, I'm flattered but… you don't want me!" Jack says his voice grating over the raw wound of inferiority.  
"Obviously they do," I point out.  
Jack half jumps, half flies up onto a table, "you're all _hard work_ and _deadlines _and I'm snowballs and fun times," he floats down to sit on the edge of the table, leaning against that damn staff, "I'm not a Guardian,"  
"Apparently you are," I mutter.  
"Jack," the Tooth Fairy says, totally ignoring me. I now see why Jack has a massive inferiority complex, at least my family acknowledges me, "I don't think you understand what it is we do," she points to the glittering globe, "each of those lights, is a child,"  
Santa cuts in, "and good or bad, naughty or nice, _we protect them_," Jack somehow finds this sentiment hilarious, while I internally 'aw!' at tough guy Santa's soft side.  
"No, no," he laughs humourlessly, "no offense," his voice is cold, his eyes hard. This annoys the Easter Bunny. Honestly, these legends are damn tetchy!


	6. Chapter Six

"How, how, how was that not offensive!" the Easter Bunny stutters, seemingly lost for words, "I mean what's this clown know about bringing _joy_ to children anyway?" nope, he found some words. Jack stiffens, but the movement is so slight only a skilled eye would notice it. These Guardians? Not one skilled eye between them. The kangaroo then proceeded to scratch just below his chin.  
"Uh, you ever hear of a _snow day_?" Jack turns around slowly, almost menacingly. He does not like the blue rabbit, "I know it's no _hard-boiled egg_, but kids _like_ what _I_ do,"  
the kangaroo stands, "but none of them believe in you, do they?" I swear I can smell the testosterone. I glare at the pair.  
"Enough," I say softly.  
"Bunny! Enough," the Tooth Fairy gasps. I stare. How could he say that? How could he _possibly_ be so _blind_ to how much not being believed in _hurts_ Jack?  
"No," Jack holds up a hand in defeat, "the kangaroo's right," that's my boy! I grin. But at the same time, my heart breaks for him. Even though he's hiding it, he desperately wants someone to see how he feels under all that armour.  
"The, the what?" The kangaroo laughs in disbelief, "What did you call me? I am _not_ a kangaroo mate," he advances towards Jack.  
"If you're not a kangaroo," Jack glares right back at him, "_what are you_?"  
"I'm a bunny, the _Easter_ _Bunny_," _That. Is. It. _

"Both of you stop, right now!" I yell. I might add here that when I yell, I really yell. As in my voice carries no matter where I am. So in this big, cavernous hall which is perfect for echoes, the pair hears me.  
"Ana," Jack just stares.  
"What are you doing?" The rabbit asks.  
"Staging an intervention. The tension is suffocating," I look both men in the eyes, "You're acting like goddamn _children_. Grow up! It's fine throwing insults back and forth but this is too far! I've seen criminals behave better than you two!" everyone stares at me in shock.  
"Ana," Jack says again.  
"Y-yeah?" I ask, my confidence beginning to ebb.  
"That was amazing," he's just staring at me.  
"Butt out, girly," the kangaroo says, annoyed. If I had hackles, they would have risen by now.  
"Make me," I growl. May I just bring to your attention that a couple of hours before this confrontation, I had a second with my mother, so all those feelings Jack had managed to bury come back.  
"What did you just say?" the kangaroo steps closer. I refuse to back down.  
"I said make me!" I snap.  
"You should watch your mouth,"  
"oh yeah? What're you gonna do to stop me? Revoke my egg privileges?" I'm walking forwards now.  
"I'm more dangerous than I look,"  
"really? Because you don't look all that dangerous to me,"  
"really, so careful what you say,"  
"Ha! Not likely,"  
"Alright, stop there," Jack floats in between us. Good, I was about to punch that self-righteous rabbit.

After my and the kangaroos little tiff, Santa takes me and Jack on a tour of his toy factory. I learn some interesting things while we walk. First, the ugly things are elves. Second, elves are stupid. This lead on to three, because the elves are stupid, the teddies make the toys. Four, the teddies aren't teddies but Yeti's. fifth, one of the Yeti's is called Phil. Sixth, Jack only know this because he's been trying to break into Santa's toy factory for years, but never got past the guards (I'm assuming Phil is one of said guards). Finally, I learnt that Santa makes every toy out of ice first. This ice never melts, and he's so skilled at carving it that he can include the most intricate details. And the ice is imbued with magic. It all comes alive! But shortly after showing us all this, Santa sends me out into the hallway while he talks to Jack. The door between me and them is made of thick oak, and there's no keyhole. Trying to eavesdrop would be pointless. So I slump down against the wall facing the door and lean my head back, eyes closed. I always sit like this when I think, I don't know why. An old habit, maybe? Quiet footsteps come towards me and stop a few metres away.  
"Eh-hem," the kangaroo clears his throat awkwardly. I don't bother hiding my frown; I was having such a nice time. He starts to clear his throat again when I say "I can hear you, I'm just ignoring you,"  
"Oh," he says. Instead of walking away, he sits down next to me, still about a metre away. Maybe he thinks I bite.  
"I, uh, I came to apologise. I was way out of line," I don't move a muscle; I just let him keep on talking.  
"And with Jack too, I overstepped boundaries," he laughs sadly, "not that I'd ever tell him that, my apology would be over 300 years late," so that's how old Jack is. I still don't move, don't speak.  
"We're kind of at war with each other. To be honest, we've been at it, I don't even remember why we're fighting," there we go.  
"Feel better?" I ask him, eyes still closed.  
"Yeah," he stands, "don't, don't tell Jack what I said, okay? He'd give me hell for it," I nod and listen as he walks away.

* * *

So please comment with improvements and maybe bits of the film I can add? I want to try and stick to the story as much as possible, with a few deviations. Much appreciated.

:)


	7. Chapter Seven

Finally Jack and Santa step out of the room. Poor Jack looks a little shaken, though not physically so that makes me wonder, what could a person say to visibly shake up someone like Jack? He's so introverted, it's a wonder anyone knows when he's happy.  
"Hi," I say. The most I've moved is to open my eyes and move those little jelly balls around to look at stuff.  
"Hello," Santa says. I struggle to my feet as Jack stares at something in the palm of his hand. It looks like the middle of a little Russian doll. It looked like Santa. Fitting.  
"You guys took your time! You left me trapped with a kangaroo with a guilty conscience," I frown disapprovingly at them.  
"Sorry Ana," Jack smiles at me, finally tearing his gaze away from the tiny Russian doll, ice blue eyes locking onto mine. For some reason his direct gaze makes my face flush. I've always put way too much stock in all that spiritual nonsense, so when a person looks into my eyes, I tend to look away. Because the eyes are the windows into the soul. But not this time, this time I just stare right back. Maybe its stubbornness, not wanting to back down, or maybe I want him to see. I don't know, all I know is that whatever it is, it's making me uncomfortable. So I smirk and turn to Santa.  
"So what next, Santa?" I ask him.  
"Please, call me North," he says kindly. Like a doting father, or a proud grandfather.  
"So Santa Clause is just a title?" I tilt my head to one side.  
"Yes, the Easter Bunny's name is actually Bunnymund and the Tooth Fairy is just Tooth, and the Sandman is Sandy" he explains.  
"Wow," I just stare. Who knew?

A shadow flits past the window. As it does, Bunnymund hops (yes, for once that rabbit actually hops) towards us, Sandy at his heels.  
"We got a problem, mate," he says breathlessly, drawing himself up, "trouble at the tooth palace," everyone looks shocked for a moment, before rushing down the hall. I follow, tripping as I struggle to keep up with them.  
"Hey! Wait!" I cry hoarsely. Have they forgotten I'm here? I hear North yell something about a sleigh and Jack protesting and Bunnymund protesting but it's all distant.  
"Please wait," I cry out. They turn sharply and I sprint after them down a dark corridor. North bursts through the double doors at the end.  
"I told you," I hear Jack say angrily; "I'm not going with you guys!" I finally catch up and walk behind Jack as he stalks into the room.  
"There is _no way_ I'm climbing into some rickety old…" he's cut off by the sound of a second pair of doors opening, "sleigh?" he steps forwards, his whole body tensed.  
"What is that?" I ask, standing by Jack's side as massive, tough looking reindeer stomp from the darkness. Their hot breath forms in clouds in front of their snouts as they rear and shake their heads madly. Even if they were calm, the sheer size of them would be terrifying. Then there's the sleigh that follows. What at first appeared simple opens up to reveal skis, rows of seats, _wings_, and some form of technology in the shape of a globe set in the front. Jack looks awed and a little annoyed.  
"That is… wow," I breathe. It's then that Bunnymund notices me.  
"No, no she isn't coming. She can't come!" he cries.  
"Why not?" I ask, prickling. And I thought we'd come to an understanding.  
"You've seen too much already,"  
"Well, if I've seen that much, surely a little more won't hurt?" I say sweetly.  
"Come on, Bunny," Jack turns a smirks, "Let her come," he places an arm over my shoulders and I grin in triumph. Even if Bunnymund says no, Jack will still find some way to bring me along.  
"It's dangerous! _Pitch_ is dangerous," Bunnymund looks a little scared, and that scares me. But not enough to make me back down.  
"North?" Jack turns to the Russian. Poor North looks a little taken aback but agrees to let me come.  
"She might be able to help," he shrugs.  
"Yes!" I jump up and clap, beaming. Jack grins and I can tell that this is going to be a fun ride.

* * *

Sorry I haven't updated for a while, but I haven't been home and so my dear computer and I were separated :'( but I am back, though school and clubs may mean I won't be able to update daily.

Anywho, comment, follow, favourite please :). I haven't had any hate so far but please, if you feel inclined to hate my work, please don't use the comments to do it, it's just depressing when people do that.

Thanks to all those who followed, favourited and commented on my story, it's nice to know people enjoy my writing. :)


	8. Chapter Eight

The Bunny put up a fight, but eventually we were all in the sleigh and about to take off. As the sleigh pulls forwards, Bunnymund slides backwards, gripping the armrests so tight he chips the paint away. Jack gives a triumphant laugh and I grin and lean over the side, trying to get a better look at where we're going. The ice tunnel twists and turns and drops and rises so suddenly I feel my stomach lurch, but not in a bad way. Bunnymund yells eyes wide as we drop about 5 metres. I'm pretty sure that if his knuckles could be seen, they would be white. Jack's laughing and leaning over the railing just behind me, his breath cooling my neck beneath my mess of curls. The tunnel's dark, the ice deep blue, almost black, until a pinprick of light shines, growing and lighting the walls. My eyes widen as a snow covered landscape is revealed, sparking, in the early morning light.  
"Oh wow," I breathe, cold air nipping at my cheeks. Then the sleigh's flying over the snow and the ice at a phenomenal speed and Bunny's screaming, Sandy has his arms in the air, Jack and North are laughing and I just grin as my hair flies out behind me, and into Jack's face.  
"Hey!" he chuckles, batting away the dark ringlets.  
"Sorry!" I yell over the wind. Suddenly, Jack gets a mischievous look in his eye and before I have time to grab something – for that look is one I take to mean that I'll soon be flying – his arms around my waist and we're lifting up into the air. I scream and wrap an arm around his neck as he flies in a massive loop around the sleigh.  
"Don't worry," he murmurs in my ear, "I'm not gonna drop you," this boy is going to kill me someday. Despite my imminent heart attack, I stop screaming and just let myself enjoy the fast, crazy and somewhat bumpy ride.

We fly together for a while before Jack lands back on the sleigh and releases me from his iron like grip.  
"You know, for a scrawny kid, you sure are strong," I raise an eyebrow at him. He pulls a hurt expression, forcing back laughter and bats me on the arm playfully, punctuating the gesture with a cry of "hey!" I giggle as North pulls a small snow globe from the pocket of his coat, yells for us to hold onto something, and throws it in front of us. It bursts in a flash of light and in a circle, faded at the edges; a beautiful scene is laid out. Massive oddly shaped palaces float, seemingly unsupported, in a large, cavernous space. The colours are all pastel, pinks, blues, yellows, purples, even some greens. I exhale sharply at the sight. It looks like every little girls fantasy.  
"That's the tooth palace?" I whisper, almost reverently, to Jack.  
He replies voice equally quiet and awed, "Yeah,"  
"You ever been here before?"  
"Nope, it's just teeth, and Tooth's no fun to annoy," he winks at me and I beam at him. I've never met anyone, human or otherwise, so in tune with their inner child at 17. We fly right into the circle – no, portal – and the scenery around us blurs and morphs into the tooth palace. Only in reality, a dark shadow is spreading, attempting to engulf the beauty of the floating palaces.

As we emerge from the portal, the scene that greets us makes my stomach turn. Strange black horses, thin with slimy black skin pulled taunt over defined rib cages, fly through the air, oozing blackness and consuming the tiny Baby Tooth's, storing them in their translucent insides.  
_They're hollow!_ I think suddenly. Jack's face falls as he sees it.  
"Oh my…" my voice fades. The sight is awful, like a nightmare. Jack leaps from the sleigh and I cry out, until I see what he's flying towards. It's a free Baby Tooth! He clasps it in his palms and rockets back to the sleigh, handing me the tiny bird-thing before flying off again, freezing any hell horse in his way. It dawns on me that he may be doing it to protect me.  
"Tooth!" I yell, as I spot the larger fairy chasing after a hell horse.  
"The Nightmares' have taken the teeth!" she cries out, collapsing on the sleigh. North lands the sleigh badly, sending us all flying onto the floor. Bunnymund hops from it, drawing his twin boomerangs as he does so. North conjures up two gorgeous sabres and begins slashing at the Nightmares (?) as Jack flies down to help us. Sandy attacks with golden sand shaped as various weapons, changing some to harmless ponies and obliterating others. Then a dark shadow appears before us.  
"Well… I knew you'd come to help, but I never thought you would bring a _human_ with you," a malnourished looking man with sunken eyes and a twisted smile emerges from the writhing black cloud. His black eyes fix on me and a whimper escapes my lips. Jack grabs my arm and roughly pulls me behind him. I gladly comply, gripping his ice cold hand.  
"Pitch," North growls. But the man, Pitch, just ignores him.  
"So she can see you!" he laughs joylessly. The laugh sends ice shooting through my heart. Before I can jump back he's millimetres from my face, breath reeking of rotted flesh, saying "can you see me?" I scream and stumble backwards, savagely fighting back tears. He laughs again, malice lacing ever burst of air. In response Jack shoots a bolt of ice right at him. But he vanishes.

* * *

Hi guys, thanks for all the lovely comments and thanks to those who've followed and favourited :)

I'll try update as much as possible, but school leaves little time for writing :(

Thanks again :)


	9. Chapter Nine

"Are you okay," Jack has his hands on my shoulders, ice blue eyes locked on mine. I feel myself shaking. Who was he? Why is he affecting me like this? No, I know why. It wasn't him; it was the deep hatred I saw in his eyes in that moment. I had no idea hatred could run so deep. Well. "  
"Yeah," I say softly. Then, louder, "I'm fine Jack, really," and after a few moments, he removes his hands and takes a step back, straightening up. Bunnymund helps me to my feet but almost as soon as I'm up I almost hear my knees saying 'haha, nope' and give out on me. Thankfully, I'm caught before I face plant.  
"Of course you're fine," Jack rolls his eyes and for the second time in as many days I'm in his arms bridal style.  
"You really need to kick your habit of picking me up, because one day you're going to drop me," I say reproachfully. Jack just laughs and shakes his head at me before lifting off the ground to find Tooth, who had vanished while Pitch was scaring the crap out of me. We land on the banks of a beautiful blue lake, Tooth hovering just above the surface causing slight ripples to disturb the surface. The poor thing looks so sad as she cradles a tiny container in her thin fingers. Jack floats over to her. I don't hear what they say, I don't bother even trying to eavesdrop, I just examine the giant painting on the rock wall. It depicts a smiling child and Tooth herself surrounded by Baby Tooth's. Then I see something strange. The paint seems to age in a moment. The paint fades and cracks, the decay starting at the edges and making their way inwards. A cry tears from my throat. The painting was so magical, the brush strokes so small and precise, the colours complementing each other perfectly. And it looked so vibrant, so fresh, how could it just crumble away like that? Tooth gives a similar cry and drops to her knees on the far bank. The tiny container drops into the water and I dive in to save it.

May I just point out that I am not a very strong swimmer? Nor can I hold my breath for very long. So when I dive in to fetch the tooth holder, I do it as a spur of the moment kind of thing. I don't think, pause, hesitate. I. just. Dive. In. I don't know why, all I know is that as I kick myself deeper below the surface after the bright casing, it occurs to me that this probably wasn't one of my best idea's. Add that to going with Jack, coming to the Tooth Palace and taking that damned art A level without mothers permission. That caused a lot of arguments. We didn't talk for a month. I reach out a hand and the container just misses my outstretched fingers. I've been under water for a while and my chest is starting to ache. I arch my back and go deeper, following the bubbly track made by the container. I snatch at it again, ignoring the popping in my ears. No go, it eludes me again. It feels like my head's in some kind of vice, only the pressure's coming from all directions. My lungs are burning and it's getting harder to force myself through the water. I give another violent kick forwards and finally my fingers grip the smooth wood. As I angle towards the surface, a sharp pain shoots though my lungs. _No_! I think angrily. Now is so not a good time to run out of air. I let out a stream of bubbles as I kick frantically towards the surface, the pressure in my head slowly fading. I may not be as deep as before but the light is still so far away. My limbs feel like lead and my head's spinning and my mouths filling with water but I hold the container tight and keep swimming. My vision darkens at the edges and it's getting harder to move. _Someone, help me_. a cold hand grips my forearm just as I lose consciousness.


	10. Chapter Nine And A Half

A/N

So I hope what I intended to be a cliffhanger fulfilled it's purpose, if it didn't then I apologise and won't try it again. This chapters a little (well, very) short so I didn't think it really counted as a whole chapter, and I didn't want to add it on the end of my Intended Cliffhanger in case I really had put you all in suspense and the add-on ruined it.

So I hope you're all still enjoying my writing, I'm trying not to be boring. Thank you to those who've commented, favourited and followed my story, it's much appreciated :)

* * *

_There's a small girl sitting in the middle of a floor littered with drawings. The walls are bright pink and the furniture is white washed wood covered in purple spirals. A four poster bed occupies the centre left, deep pink drapes hiding the masses of teddies from sight. An older boy walks in and sits beside the girl. She smiles warmly at him and hands him a crayon. He settles beside her and draws with her. there's a massive contrast in their art, the little girl inexperienced and clumsy, the older boy professional and graceful. She finishes her picture and shows it proudly to the boy. the stick figures are crude, and she didn't stay inside the lines but the boy smiles and accepts it anyway, real warmth in his eyes. he fold up the picture and places it in his wallet, something the girl knows he keeps with him at all times. Then the boy stands and flings open the velvet curtains to reveal a sun setting over new York city, and tells the little girl something. she scowls and pouts, but the boy just smiles, picks her up, and dumps her onto her bed. He then chooses a book of a shelf and settles down next to her to read. After a while the little girl falls asleep, and before the boy notices he's asleep too, head resting gently atop hers. Now that their heads are close together, the family resemblance is unmistakeable. The little girl looks a lot like her big brother. _


	11. Chapter Ten

Something wet trickles from my eye and down the side of my face. After a while my ears pick up whispers from beside me.  
"She's gonna be okay, right?" an American.  
"I knew we shouldn't have brought her with us," Australian.  
"UuuUUuhh," okay, that's not an accent, it's not even a word.  
"She'll be fine, in fact she should be waking up anytime soon," Russian. Suddenly the past two days (that I was conscious for) come rushing back to me. Meeting Jack, being taken to Santa's workshop, the Tooth Palace. I very nearly let another tear escape but I stop myself. Crying won't get me anywhere, it never has and it never will.  
"I think she's awake!" a woman's voice says over the whispers. I let my eyes open and stare up at the ceiling for a while. The dream's shaken me; it's been such a long time since I last had it.  
"Are you alright? You're feeling okay?" Jack asks anxiously. I almost smile at his concern. Almost.  
"Yeah," I say, voice cracking, "Yeah," I say again, stronger this time.  
"What happened?" I ask him.  
"Well you jumped into the lake after the teeth-"  
"After I passed out," I sigh. It may seem rude but honestly, I don't see how I could possibly alive right now.  
"Jack jumped in after you. I don't know what happened under there, but it was a while before he managed to pull you back to the surface," Tooth explains gently. Jack's off the edge of my bed and pacing the room, body tense.  
"Oh, that's fine then," I say but Jack snaps, "It's not!" and I stare.  
"It's not fine, what were you thinking?" he yells. A wave of anger washes over me and I feel my fists clench.  
"Excuse me? I was saving the teeth!" I shout back.  
"Why're they important?"  
"What?"  
"The teeth. Why are they important?" he asks again.  
"I-I don't know," I'm a little shocked by the sudden interrogation.  
"Exactly! You didn't even know if the teeth were important in any way, and yet you still risked your _life_ to save them!" I don't think I've seen anyone as angry as Jack is now, it scares me.  
"Were they important?" I ask quietly.  
"The teeth," Tooth says, "hold the happy memories of the children of this world. When a child is feeling sad, or scared, we show them these memories to make them happy again,"  
"So they were important!" I say triumphantly. Jack whirls around and glares at me.  
"But you didn't know that! For all you knew they could have just been little stubs of bone! The container may have been _empty_!" he's shouting again, louder than before. The volume deepens his voice and makes him seem so much older than he appears.  
"What else could I have done? Scream and point? That's not what I do, Jack. I refuse to just stand by and watch something happen that I could have stopped," my anger fades. _Not again. I won't do nothing ever again._

Jack left after I said that. Maybe it's because he feels the same way sometimes? No, it goes deeper than that. I'm curled up on the ledge of a massive stained glass window. The Guardian's and Jack left to collect teeth from the children of this world. Something about kids not believing and powers… I wasn't really paying attention. I was too busy worrying about Jack. I'm the first person he's found who can actually see him, and I'm pretty sure that if he could touch stuff and move stuff, he would have done so and more people would believe in him. So he's not only invisible, but also… unsubstantial. So maybe… maybe he's seen bad things happen, but because he can't touch anything he couldn't stop it happening! Maybe he's annoyed because he knows the feeling and can emphasise but he's so mad that it doesn't make things better, only worse! No, that doesn't sound right. A Yeti brings me a large mug of hot chocolate (not coco, chocolate, I may be American but that does not mean I need to conform to the perverseness of our recreation of the English language) and I take small sips, still staring fixedly out the window. I want to do something, I want to help, but I'm mortal. I'm not special. The only remarkable thing about me is my art, and even then that's all amateurish compared to other artists. Why did I even try to fool myself into thinking I could help _them_ – spirits, legends, Guardians? What was I going to do? White out the evil? Paint away fear? Who the hell am I kidding? How is a child like me ever supposed to help save the world from an enemy I don't know squat about?  
"How right you are, Anastasia," a dark voice sneers from the shadows. The voice makes my blood run cold.  
"Pitch," I whisper, voice cracking in fear. What am I right about, though? I think through the sudden haze of fear. A cold hand touches my cheek and I whirl around.  
"You believe in me, Ana, you _fear_ me," the hand moves, sliding almost tenderly from my cheek. I shudder and pull away. Where is he?  
"I am everywhere," Pitch sneers, "In every shadow, under every bed, hiding in ever cupboard," I flinch again as the hand slides over my hair to rest at the nape of my neck. And I try, I really do, I try to hate him, I try to feel disgusted. But I just feel pity. This poor man, doomed to be forever shrouded in darkness, never to be seen, or believed in. and I feel empathy. I know how it feels not to be seen, to have no-one believe in you. The hand has drifted to my leg and I catch it, preventing it from moving any further.  
"To live a life in the shadows…" I say softly, "To live unseen by most and seen as evil by the few who can, it must be hell," the tight grip Pitch's hand had on my leg loosens.  
"You understand, don't you?" He says, just as soft, "You know how it feels not to be seen, to be a disappointment… I know, it is your greatest fear,"  
"I already am a disappointment," I murmur. I hear the smile in Pitch's voice as he says:  
"No, it is your greatest fear that you will only be a disappointment to everyone, nothing more," I lean against the ice frosted glass, eyes closed. If I can't see Pitch, I want to see nothing. As I sit there, Pitch's hand clasped in my own, hearing his shallow breaths I realise – being a disappointment to my family is something I can live with. There is only one person I cannot bear to disappoint, and that person is dead. Now? Now I fear being alone.


	12. Chapter Eleven

AN

Hi! So I think that maybe I should explain my motives behind the Pitch thing. I didn't like the ending to Rise Of The Guardians, and I didn't like how little they showed us of Pitch's character so I included that scene to sort of give my opinion of Pitch's character and show a little of Anastasia's.

As for the stroking, Pitch sees fears, right? So any sane person would be pretty freaked out if some invisible person started petting them and caressing them and stuff (at least I would be)

To NanuKitty, I hope you feel better soon, sucks to be ill (or did you mean sick figuratively... I don't know)

Anyways I hope you're all still enjoying the story (I will get back to the main plot line... eventually) and thanks for all the lovely reviews and HAPPY 2013! A little late but still... It doesn't feel like a different year...

* * *

As I reach this epiphany, the large doors protecting the room I had chosen to hide in burst open and the Guardians (and Jack) storm in. I open my eyes lazily to see Pitch rise from his position opposite me. His whole aura has changed, from the lonely spirit to a dangerous spectre. The only difference is, I no longer fear him. Jack grabs my arm and pulls me away from Pitch.  
"What are you doing?" he yells, "Pitch is dangerous! You could have been killed," he looks so worried, I bite back my scathing comment and say gently:  
"Pitch wouldn't have hurt me," Jack looks at me in shock.  
"He would. And he'd have enjoyed it!"  
"What do you know about me, Jack Frost?" Pitch's voice booms out over the cavernous space. I don't even flinch. The dark man steps down from the sill, landing silently. North and the others can't get back fast enough.  
"I wouldn't have killed your precious Anastasia. Why should I? She's so much like me," his voice is like velvet, smooth and soft and vaguely insulting.  
"And we were getting along so well," I mutter. He hears me and smirks.  
"You were useful. I knew you wouldn't sound any alarm. The poor, lonely child, desperate for acceptance," okay, a scathing comment is long overdue. But I swallow it down, even though my anger's rising in a steady wave. If this man truly did play me, then how dare he. Yet I can't shake the feeling that this, all this, is an act. He doesn't want to be seen as weak before his enemies. So I'll bear the insults as stoically as I can. Even so, the insults sting. With a cold laugh, Pitch vanishes, leaving Jack and the Guardians far behind him.

"You were talking with him? With Pitch Black?" Tooth asks me anxiously. Sandy hasn't been looking happy since Pitch's departure, and Bunnymund's been downright grumpy. North hasn't been so bad, and Tooth's just interested. Jack's being surly and silent.  
"Yep,"  
"What did he say?"  
"Um…" so our conversation was a little private. He was exposing all of my deepest fears.  
"We… we were talking about fears, and there was a little bit of analysis tucked in there too,"  
"What do you mean?"  
"I mean… that… I think I understand a little about Pitch," I say, finally finding words that sounded right. Somehow 'connection' didn't work.  
"Like…?" god, she's like a friend grilling me on my first crush (no-one's ever done that to me before so… I'm just going off movies. Tooth is the kind of person I'd imagine a best friend to be like)  
"Okay, so he was telling the truth when he said I was like him," I say, quickly leading on with: "Because you see my parents' have never really appreciated me and my talents, though they're few and far between, and they're more than a little disappointed with me, you know? Because I'm not like them. And sometimes it kind of seems like they don't see me and Pitch is literally unseen and I guess you guys' are a little disappointed in him because he didn't have to turn out evil even if he is the bogey man and…" I fade out, the stares sapping my confidence. I said more than I should have.  
"And also, he's lonely," I finish, "and so am I," I stare each of them in the face, back straight, what I hope is a determined look on my face. I think for a moment that maybe Tooth gets it, Bunnymund's not looking convinced but North… North is nodding. Maybe he understands? I sneak a look at Jack out of the corner of my eye. He looks stricken. So being unseen hurts him too, he also feels lonely.  
"I think it's time you go home," Bunnymund says firmly. I whirl around and stare at him, betrayal twisting my gut.  
"What? Why?" I squeak.  
"You can't seem to tell the difference between friend and enemy!" Bunny straightens up and glares.  
"The world isn't black and white, Bunnymund! No person's _just_ good or _just_ evil, there's more to them, and that means there more to Pitch as well," I glare right back. Jack's silent. I know he's not going to speak up. No matter what I say, they'll all feel a little betrayed. North says:  
"it's not because you've spoken to Pitch, it's because you have a family back home who will be worried about you," I snort. Worried? They won't have even noticed! But I don't say anything, just nod and let North open a portal onto my street.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Guys!

Guygsguysguysguys!

I don't know where you are, but here, in England, IT'S A SNOW DAY! Which means school finished 2 hours after starting! Isn't that great?!

I feel I owe a second explanation.

The Guardian's never don't believe in her, they just feel betrayed. Anastasia understands that and so even though it hurts she won't resent them for it. Plus, it's just the way she is. She's really emphatic, and is always putting herself in other people shoes (figuratively, of course) and always tries to see the best in people, hence why she no longer fears Pitch. The only person she dislikes in any way is her family, and that's because the betrayal and hurt she feels runs deep, especially when it comes to her family. She feels that families are supposed to be loving and supportive towards each other, but she hasn't had any of that from most of hr family, least of all her own mother.

Another point on the Guardians, she's believed in them her whole life, ever since she knew who they were. So it won't be so easy to stop believing in them just like that (snaps fingers). Plus, all they did was send her home, and she could never have helped them anyway, being mortal and all.

So yeah, explanation 2. Thank you again for following, favouriting and reviewing my story :) means a lot.

Enjoy

* * *

It must be around midnight – it's almost pitch black out (Hah!) – so I slip silently through the front door and tread carefully, avoiding our ludicrous amount of squeaky floor boards (You'd think, being rich and all, someone would get them fixed) the door to my room creaks slightly and I flinch. Snuffles come from my parents' room but that's it. My rooms coated with a thin layer of dust. They must have thought I was painting. I collapse onto my bed and close my eyes, trying desperately to sleep. But when it does finally come, I wish it hadn't.

_A boy's laying in a hospital bed, a drip in his arm, hooked up to a heart monitor. A small girls sat by his side. They talk quietly, the girl with tears in her eyes, the boy with a small, sad smile. The setting, the emotions, makes it obvious. The boy isn't going to live much longer. The pair look almost identical, the same dark hair, dark skin and green eyes. only the boy's hair is straight while the girls is curly. No-one else is in the room, no nurses, no doctors, no friends. They all left a while ago. Now it's just the little girl and her big brother.  
"Can I see our picture again?" he asks weakly and the little girl produces a small, battered picture frame. Inside is an even more worn picture. A crayon drawing, with a line down the middle. There's a crude picture of the boy and a slightly less crude but equally sketchy picture of the girl. They're holding hands and smiling. Where their hands meet, the line has been rubbed away. The boy smiles at the picture for a moment before he cries out in agony. He writhes in pain for a while, the little girl crying. Why won't the doctors come? Why won't they save him? then he goes limp. The only sound in the room before the doctors come is the girls sobbing and the continuous, unbroken whine of the heart monitor. _


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Someone's shaking me. when I open my eyes, my vision is blurred. My mother looks mad.  
"Honestly!" she yells, "you hole up in your room for days doing god knows what and then you wake the whole house up with your screaming!" I wipe away the tears and frown at my mother. She didn't notice.  
"Terribly sorry my cries of sorrow disturbed your beauty sleep, _mother_," I say accusingly. Bitterness, it's a… Bee hive. Mother looks a little taken aback. Probably my tone. But she recovers quick enough, scowling at me and stalking out. The dust might not have made things any better. It's late still, but there's no way I'm going back to sleep. So I grab a massive canvas, some oil paints, and set to work. Oil paints are by far the hardest to work with, so it takes talent to make something beautiful with them. I sketch out the main idea first, leaving out the details. Then I select my colours. Dark blues, several shades of black, white, a soft red, yellow, orange, browns, a few shades of grey (of which there are over a hundred, _not_ fifty) and several more shades of lighter blue. Van Gogh himself proved there is no such thing as too much blue. I hoist the canvas up onto an easel and begin.

A soft breeze blows my window open and a long shadow darkens my floor. I don't even pause, not for a second. When I draw, it's like nothing else matters. I just need to get my idea onto paper, give it colour, bring it to life. That's it. When I'm like this, it doesn't matter that my mother doesn't care. It doesn't matter that the Guardians' don't understand. It doesn't matter that the world may be taken over by darkness. None of that matters. It's all irrelevant. So I keep painting. I'm filling in the details, letting my brush slide along in easy curves, switching suddenly to short, sharp strokes. I don't have any particular style, I just paint what I can remember and use whichever style suits it best. I think that makes me better, not being restricted to one way of painting. I do prefer shorter strokes though; they mean I can add more detail, more colours. Finally I finish, and I sit back on my heels to admire my work.  
"Can you," a soft voice says from my window, "can you still see me?" it's Jack. I turn to face him, frowning at him.  
"Of course I can still see you, idiot," I shake my head and look back at my painting. It's Jack and I, what I imagined we'd have looked like when we were up on the skyscraper. Most of the canvas is taken up by the cityscape, by the breezes bringing little snowflakes, but there we are, in miniature, Jack's arm out, pointing to something far away. I feel him at my back, the cold he emanates seeping through my clothes and into my bones. But it's not totally unpleasant. At least someone's still here. Jack's attention is caught by an older drawing, the only one framed and protected. It's by far the most crude in the room, drawn by a child and her brother.  
"You drew this," it isn't a question, he knows immediately.  
"Yes," despite that, I answer.  
"But someone else drew it with you," he's looking at the side he drew, not Jack, someone else.  
"Yes," I can't say it. It hurts too much to say it.  
"Who?" Jack asks. I know I can't not answer, but my throat closes up. I can't get the words out.  
"… My… he…" I sigh, "An old friend," it doesn't do him justice, but it's all I can manage.  
"I'm sorry," Jack whispers, "for not defending you. I know that I should have but I just didn't… I don't understand why,"  
"you should. We're all the same,"  
"I am not the same as Pitch," Jack growls, turning sharply.  
"Yes you are. We're all the same," I repeat, "my parents don't see me, you and Pitch are both invisible to those who don't believe in you. How are you different?"  
"You're starting to sound like him, he wants me to join his side too," he spits.  
"I'm not asking you to join Pitch, Jack; I'm simply saying that you and he are the same. Maybe you don't follow the same moral code but you're both dealing with your pain the same way. By joining the Guardians you hope to get people to see you, by giving people nightmares Pitch hopes to get people to see him. you're not doing the same things but you have exactly the same goal. And yet…" I frown.  
"And yet?" Jack asks angrily.  
"And yet you want to defeat him. you want to return him to his old, cold, lonely existence. You don't see the similarities, you're not putting yourself in his shoes, you're not emphasising with him, though you are more able than most," I look at him despairingly. How does he not get it?  
"You don't understand," Jack turns away from me and I stand.  
"you think defeating Pitch will mean that people will start to believe in you. Pitch thinks that giving everyone bad dreams will make them believe in him but you're both wrong. Doing bad things, doing good things, they don't get you noticed. It's peoples own ignorance that blinds them to you, ruining Pitch and his already miserable life won't get people to see you, I know, I have tried," I whisper harshly. The last thing I need is for mother to walk in and find me talking to thin air. Jack says nothing, just looks at me, his blue eyes shocked.  
"your parents… they really don't care about you?" he asks incredulously.  
"my father hasn't the time and I'm just a disappointment to mother, so now I want you to listen close," I'm inches from his face, my own creased in anger, "don't you ever, ever, tell me I don't understand pain, and loss, and neglect, because I do, all too well," and I turn and stalk away, my body tense with anger. It's unreasonable, being this angry, but I don't like being told I don't understand, I won't get it, I'm nothing like them, they're not me. because a lot of the time, I do understand, I am like them. Especially now.

"I apologise," Jack whispers before flying out of my window.

That night, before I go back to bed, I close and lock my bedroom window.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

The next few days are dull. My teachers were more worried about my absence than my parents were, I had to catch up on a lot of school work and accept once more that I have no friends. I sit in the back of the classroom Friday morning, Maths, and stare out the window at the snow. it's falling heavily, coating everything in white. I watch the snow on the windowsill get steadily higher. It's mesmerising, snow, the way each little snow flake spirals down to earth. No 2 snowflakes are the same. They've all got subtly different patterns in them, all of them each individual. And their lack of consciousness means that they don't wish to be like everybody else. They're incapable of wishing to be like everybody else. It's both sad and beautiful and completely refreshing. Everyone's obsessed with being individual now that we strive to be 'hipster' but in striving to be 'hipster' we become 'mainstream' because if everyone's a 'hipster' then they're all the same. Like with 'indies' if everyone is an 'indie' then they aren't truly individual, are they?

This is what I'm thinking about as I sit in Maths, until the snow stops. It doesn't slow to a stop, the snow doesn't gradually thin out or move away, it just stops. Just like that. that's what causes me to stand and flee the class room. my teacher yells for me to come back but by then I'm already sprinting down the corridor, out the building, through the gates. They don't know what I do. they don't realise who makes the snow and what it means for it to just stop. I run around the whole city and its evening before I even slow down. In fact, I only stop when I barrel into Jamie Bennet.  
"What the- Jamie? What're you doing out this late?!"I yell in shock.  
"Ana! The Easter Bunny and Santa and the Tooth Fairy and the Sandman, they're all real!" he cries, hugging me round the middle.  
"What about Jack Frost?" I don't remember thinking that.  
"Who?" Jamie frowns slightly.  
"Jack Frost, he brings the winter," I explain. So I guess he couldn't see Jack. No wonder the poor guy was so upset.  
"never heard of him but I need to get hoe otherwise mom will kill me. Bye Ana!" he calls over his shoulder as he runs home. I shake my head in disbelief. How do kids have so much energy?

That night I walk the empty high street, kicking a can along in front of me when suddenly darkness envelopes me.  
"Hey!" I yell as I spin to a stop in a dark, run down place that can only be described as a lair.  
"Hello Anastasia," Pitch's voice reaches me from the other side of the room. I turn quickly and see him sat on a throne of shadows.  
"why have you brought me here, Pitch?" I call out across the room.  
"A battle is soon to begin. I want you out of the firing line," he says simply. As if.  
"No way, Black," I laugh, "this is my fight too,"  
"it has nothing to do with you, Anastasia. You are not like us, you are not immortal," he stands, the shadows in the room darkening.  
"where is this?"  
"Below the river," is all he says as an explanation.  
"What if the walls break? What then?" he doesn't reply so I say, "I'd drown Pitch. I'm safer up there. now let me go," I stand straight, trying to look brave and strong.  
"No," and with that he's gone in a tidal wave of darkness.  
"Pitch!" I yell in frustration.

I pace the cavern, hands behind my back, scowling at the wet ground. Damn him! how is down here any safer than up there? I slam my fist into the damp wall. Something sort of explodes and my hand's covered in gloop.  
"Oh gross!" I squeal and wipe my hand quickly on my jeans. That is so disgusting. I pace some more until there's this really worrying crack. I glance up at the ceiling. It's pitch black, I can't see what's happening. it's only when the cracking happens again just a few feet above my head that I realise. The walls are cracking, breaking. Oh shiz. Oh bloody hell. Water spurts through the cracks, spraying me in the face. I turn tail and run down corridors. My feet pound against the wet ground and I don't realise I've slipped until I hit the floor. Hard.  
"Oof!" the air leaves my lungs in a rush and I lay there, gasping for breath before struggling to my feet and running again. The tunnel twists in a giant arc, bringing me back to the main hall. By this point there's a whole lot more water cascading down from the ceiling, flowing from the walls.  
"Pitch!" I scream as the water level rises.  
"Jack! North! Bunny! Anybody! Somebody help me! Jack!" I scream out names until my voice goes hoarse. When I finally stop screaming the water's up to my waist, the walls still cracking. I watch in horror as the north wall gives a final moan before buckling and water crashes over me with the force of a tsunami.  
"Jack!"


	16. Chapter Fifteen

__Hi! I'm glad you're all liking my story. It might go bad at some point, I wrote this chapter and the last one while ill so... I have an excuse. Apologies for not posting for ages, I have been distracted by the Hobbit! And GCSE's, of which I now have 2! *dances in seat* But yeah, thank you so much for all the lovely reviews :) I hope you continue to enjoy my writing and I wish you all a nice life.

* * *

_Everything's black, I can't see a thing. I scream soundlessly in the endless abyss, knowing no one will come to save me. my lungs burn and throb as I inhale nothing but water. I can't tell when my sight dims, or even if it dims at all, everything's so dark already. My limbs thrash and lash out, unwilling to simply let me die. It's a natural reflex. It's why we can't drown ourselves. To drown we need to be incapable of going up for air, and it can't be ourselves holding us down. Only a rope or another's hands will be able to keep us under the water. Because no matter how much we think we want to die, our base instinct is to live. And people say we aren't animals. The longer I'm stuck below the surface the weaker my struggling becomes, the more scattered my thoughts are. Eventually moving is too hard so I stop and just lay there, suspended in water. To think my grave would be in a dark cavern beneath the river. Then again, it's better than being crammed in a box to be eaten by worms that are eaten by birds that are eaten by cats that laze around the house all day. At least in the food chain of fish something interesting happens to the energy I possessed. _

_Jack's POV_

I've almost got Pitch, my ice spears ready when he freezes. Everything about him gets pulled taunt. The one word that leaves his lips makes my blood run cold.  
"Anastasia,"  
He's flying away in an instant, rocketing towards his lair with me close on his heels.  
"What have you done to Ana?!" I scream over the wind.  
"She was supposed to be safe!" he yells back.  
"That's not what I asked!"  
"she's in my home, it was the safest place for her!"  
"Was? Supposed to be?" fear courses through me, "If something's happened to Ana I swear I will make you pay!" I bellow. We're suddenly shrouded in darkness. Once the shadows fade everything is black. We're surrounded by water. This is Pitch's lair? Something's in the darkness, a limp form. I swim towards it and grab hold. The body turns to face me and I see the lifeless face of Ana, eyes open wide, staring at me. blackness takes hold once more and we're back at the battle. Ana's body hits the ground with a thump and everything stops. I kneel next to her, shaking her shoulders, slapping her face, screaming her name. she won't wake. I turn on Pitch.  
"This is your fault!" I scream, "if you hadn't taken her she would still be…" my voice fades as I see black tears running down his grey cheeks. _we're all the same. _I guess we were the same in more ways than she thought. She never realised how I felt, and I never realised how he felt. About her.  
"we're the same," I whisper and he tears his gaze away from her corpse to look me in the eyes and I see all the pain, the loneliness, the deep seated resentment and the love. He loved her, maybe not romantically but that doesn't make it hurt less. She was the only person to see him, and now she's gone, because of him. I turn back to her, to the body her soul used to inhabit. But she's blurred, fuzzy. My tears make it impossible for me to see her face clearly.  
"Ana," I sob and fall back to my knees, pulling her head onto my lap.  
"Ana please wake up," I whisper. My tears fall onto her face, mingling with the water droplets.  
"Jack," Tooth says softly and I turn my head slightly, not acknowledging her words, "Jack we should close her eyes," her hand touches my shoulder and I can't help but sob as Tooth's fingers close Anastasia's eyelids. People are yelling behind me, yelling at Pitch, who remains silent. I can see the tears still streaming down his cheeks, dripping onto the floor like molten shadow. A cloud shifts and the moon is revealed, bathing the whole damned scene in silver light. Anastasia looks like she's glowing, like there's this light shining within her. it's only when her body begins to rise from my arms that it hits me that the glow isn't a trick of the light, she is actually glowing.

_Anastasia's POV_

_Do you wish to live? _

But I am dead.

_Do you wish to live?_

So how am I thinking?

_Your spirit is not yet dead. So you wish to live?_

As what?

_As a legend. As an Immortal. As a protector of children._

As a Guardian?

_As the Guardian of Creativity._

How can a person guard Creativeness?

_You will help the children explore their talents, and to fulfil their dreams._

All I need to do is say yes?

_Yes._

Then yes. a thousand times yes.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

My body is filled with warmth, and with cold, and with light and with dark and with fear and with hope and with… everything. I'm full and weightless. My body aches as it changes, morphs into something new and undying. I'm vaguely aware of screams and yells and cries but they mean nothing. They're just unintelligible noises coming from somewhere far away. I'm drunk on the way a feeling like fire dances under my skin, through my veins, setting my blood alight with magic. A wave of complete bliss rushes over me in a way I have only ever felt once before, with Jack, on that skyscraper. My stomach drops as I sink to the ground, long hair pooling beneath my head. There are no longer any babbled voices, just a soft silence. I don't want to open my eyes because when I do, this beautiful quiet will be gone, and I'll have to face all the problems. But as much as I don't want to, I force my lids open and see Jack, staring down at me, tears in his ice blue eyes.  
"Hey," I whisper and he drops, wrapping his arms around my neck and hugging me close.  
"Whoa, hey, too tight Jack," I wince as I feel my new ribs creak. What with intense water pressure and all that, my ribs cracked, I can only assume that these are new ones, since there's always some hint of a breakage somewhere on bone. Shut up, I watch a lot of crime shows.  
"I thought you were dead, you _were_ dead," he sobs into my shoulder.  
"I was, yeah, but now I'm alive," I stroke his hair gently, ignoring the pain in my back from holding myself just a little off the ground.  
"I thought…" his tears are freezing on my shoulder, in my hair, on his face.  
"It's okay, _I'm_ okay, alright? Everything's fine," I push him back slightly and cup his face in my hands. The pain in those eyes shatters my heart as I tell him over and over that it's okay, I'm alive, don't cry. Pitch rushes over and Jack is immediately on guard.  
"Jack calm down! It's not his fault, he meant well," I scold him gently and Pitch helps me to my feet. My clothes are soaked through and freezing but I'm not cold. The Guardians are behind Pitch, and with them are a group of kids and in that group…  
"Jamie?!" I cry out but he doesn't react, just keeps staring at Jack and Pitch like they're crazy. My heart sinks.  
"He can't… see me?" I ask quietly. Pitch shakes his head and Jack coughs.  
"What happened?" Jack asks me.  
"I think… I think I died, and then I came back," I start to laugh. Soon I'm doubled over, holding my stomach as tears streak down my face.  
"Oh that is…" I sober up slightly and straighten my back, wiping the tears from my eyes.  
"What's so funny?" Jack asks, raising an eyebrow.  
"Oh come on! Don't tell me you've never heard of Anastasia, the Russian princess, the Tsars daughter?" I frown at them, they shake their heads, "you are not serious! Oh that is awful! Okay so basically," I sit on the floor cross legged, "a group of people – the Soviet Union I think – attacked the Tsars palace and killed everyone inside. Princess Anastasia was not among the dead, though she was never seen again. And please god tell me you know what the name Anastasia means?" they shake their heads and I sigh dramatically, "It means 'she will rise again' and I rose again!" I beam at them and they shake their heads at me.  
"Oh come on! It's funny!" that makes them laugh.  
"As funny as it is," North steps forward, "there is still the matter of Pitch that needs to be taken care of," he glares menacingly at Pitch. I stand quickly and step in front of Pitch.  
"Ana, what are you doing?" Tooth stares at me in shock.  
"What are you going to do to Pitch?" I frown at them, prepared to fight and fight hard if I have to.  
"He cannot stay here," North says, looking dangerous.  
"What, are you going to do, to Pitch?" I say slowly.  
"He'll be banished, he won't be able to return here, the children will be safe," North takes a step forwards.  
"You'll banish him for wanting to be seen?" I ask incredulously, "that isn't justice!"  
"The punishment fits the crime," Bunny says. He looks sad.  
"If wanting recognition is a crime then I should be banished too," I glare at them all, "God knows I've done enough in the hopes of being seen,"  
"But you've never done anything evil!" Jack cries and my stomach drops.  
"I'd have thought you'd understand, Jack," I look sadly at him.  
"I do understand, but there's a wrong and a right way to go about being seen, he chose the wrong way,"  
"He made a mistake! Are you really going to punish him for that?" I yell.  
"This isn't the first time!" North bellows.  
"What do you mean?"  
"This isn't the first time he's done this, and it's not the first time he's been banished," Bunny explains.  
"Well now we have a problem," I say lowly, "on the one hand, this isn't just a mistake, it was done intentionally with full knowledge of the effects and on the other hand that first mistake was met with zero acceptance. I'll bet you didn't listen to a word he had to say," whose side can I pick? They're all idiots who've brought this on themselves.  
"Why should we listen to him? He tried to kill us!" Bunny growls.  
"Because then maybe you'd understand how bloody lonely it is!" I snap. Bunny looks shocked as I continue;  
"I can forgive Pitch for making the same mistake twice, seeing as all you did was banish him. But that doesn't mean I can't also forgive you. Just don't make the same mistake," I beg. North looks dubious, though Bunny and Toothiana seem half convinced.  
"Please just… just try to understand why. He doesn't just want you dead; he wants people to believe in him, to see him. Bunny, you know how powerless you felt when people couldn't see you, how much it hurt," I look pleadingly at him, arms out slightly in front of me.  
"That was because of Pitch," Bunny says and I shake my head.  
"That's not the point! The point is that you know how that felt, so you know how Pitch and I and Ana feel," Jack says, coming to stand by my side. _Thank you _I think as I smile at him.  
_Brave girl. _


End file.
